


The Hunter

by NorthwesternInsanity



Category: Dokken, Music RPF
Genre: Bickering, Irony, Multi, PMRC, Search and Rescue, Violence, a big mess, crackfic, craziness, wild chase
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-05-01 08:03:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14515968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NorthwesternInsanity/pseuds/NorthwesternInsanity
Summary: What happens when the aftermath of an argument in the studio disbanding to an evening around town and the streets turns into a wild search (and more arguing) through the night. A search as the result of a bass player being snatched up by an extreme branch of the parental advisory groups and chased through the woods! Fluffy crackfic. (written for the Video Inspired Challenge on Rockfic for August 2017)





	The Hunter

Jeff Pilson sat in the studio, taking liberty of some extra time alone to play with alternate bass lines, trying to decide if the one he was trying was better than what he'd planned to record for the song they were working on. The sun was setting outside, and with the overhead lights off, the studio was becoming dimmer, but rather than turning them back on, Jeff forced himself to really feel for what he was doing instead, ignoring the patterns and just focusing in on the sound and imagining the harmonies.

The _Tooth and Nail_ tour was over, and aside from one good day working on the music video for 'Its Not Love', if the studio editing and official recording process for Under Lock and Key was telling Jeff anything, it was that there would be a lot more trouble with arguments in this tour. The pressure was on to top the last album now that they had a stronghold on the scene, and that only added to the tensions.

There was also increased presence from the activists trying to keep rock and metal music censored -especially the parental advisory groups. A few days ago, they had gotten a threat message faxed in, stating that they had to 'send in lyrics', and if they weren't clean, or if they didn't send them in that they'd better 'hop to it' on agreeing to a warning label, or a division of them would quote: 'hunt them down'. 

Being more concerned with getting the instrumental tracks recorded properly, responding had been the least of anyone's worries. Don had muttered under his breath about phoning management later in the week. That hadn't happened yet. Mick had scoffed at the note, saying that their lyrics were far from as dirty as some of the other bands they'd worked with, and even if they were -which Mick made quite clear that he wouldn't have minded -it was a whole bunch of hype. He tore up the fax sheet. Jeff had taken turns with George then picking up the pieces and throwing them around like confetti to be funny about it, but it had without a doubt left a sour taste in all their mouths.

Today, the pressure from all directions had come to a head, and it got nasty -fast. Don and George had been at each other's throats over every little thing, relentlessly all evening. What had started over an argument over George coming in twenty minutes late because of traffic had turned into nitpicking every idea and note, to cat-fight bickering over unrelated details, and eventually a screaming match that broke up in a way that led to Jeff's current state, all to himself in the studio.

Mick had stood by the door, shaking his head as Don and George had glared daggers at each other.

_"I'm leaving. I'll be back here when you all settle this if it's gonna be a shouting match until you two do, but for now, I'm going to town,"_ he'd decided.

With that, before anyone even thought to try and stop him, he'd run off to town on his own two feet. That, Jeff had speculated, might have been part of what had started the tension. Mick had also come in late after his car had broken down, which meant he didn't have his portable recorder with his pre-planned drum tracks on it. Don had planned on starting with those, and the surprise of the car breakdown might as well have been as disappointing to him as it was to Mick.

Jeff still didn't think it had been worthy of getting that worked up. Especially when Mick hadn't seem but so bothered about what was his own car once he arrived.

As soon as Mick had left, George had stormed out, and Jeff had heard George go out of the parking lot in his car, engine revving loudly, wheels squealing on the turn. Angry driving. He wouldn't be back any time soon. Jeff could imagine well enough with how George was. He liked to get on the highway and go fast enough that Jeff couldn't understand how he'd never been chased by a cop before. Riding with George in those cases was usually fun, but Jeff only enjoyed it when it was away from other traffic. Avoiding traffic wasn't going to be George's focus now, so Jeff was increasingly glad as time passed that he'd opted to not accompany George this time.

And with nothing better to do when there weren't instrumental tracks to put the vocals to, Don also left. Jeff had heard his motorcycle start, so he wasn't likely going to be going quite as far away, but it was possible he would still be away for awhile. Don wasn't the type to go taking out anger on the road -by motorcycle or car -so much as he was to cruise around and try to be calm that way. That often meant it depended on how angry he really was, and there wasn't much to estimate by when Don would be back. 

Jeff had the option to leave too, but feeling in the mood to keep doing what he'd intended in the studio, he opted to make the most of being alone. After all the commotion earlier, he wasn't minding it entirely, aside from wishing there was somebody he could jam with so that it didn't seem so silent around him.

His bandmates all left around 7:00. Now it was almost 10:00. Jeff was also realizing if they came back and went back to work to actually do everything they planned to, it was going to be a full night in the studio. With that in mind, he padded toward the kitchenette outside of the lounge to go put the coffee pot on. That was a must. All it would take to have everything start right back up was for the first one of them to start getting cranky from fatigue.

Filling the water reservoir, Jeff, stopped, hearing voices and footsteps in the hall outside. Lots of them. Even if George, Mick, and Don arrived back all together, there wouldn't have been that much noise. He caught murmurs about 'lyric content', but the voices didn't sound like anyone else who used the building's other studio spaces.

That, for whatever reason, wasn't giving Jeff an easy feeling.

He set the can of coffee grinds down hard and darted over to the window, trying to see if he saw familiar vehicles or not, but before he could get a look down to the parking lot, a huge thump came on the door in from the hallway, and it burst open.

There was a reeking odor of woodsmoke, and indistinguishable shouting. As Jeff turned around, he saw a several burly figures with goggles on that appeared to be some night-vision aid, and in hunting gear. Whoever they were supposed to be, Jeff decided then and there he did not want to be alone in the studio with them. Turning around, he tried to run for the back exit by the stairs.

Behind him, he heard glass shatter as something hit the window and broke it. He heard something else hit the floor. A muddy shoe was flung ahead of him. They were throwing things.

_Yeah, it's time to get out of here. Like, five minutes ago,_ Jeff thought, reaching out. His hand was two inches from the door handle, when a stronghold reached around him and pulled him back and up off his feet. In a blind panic, he began struggling, kicking hard. He felt the world turn upside down for a minute, before he was aware of being on the lounge table. In hopes of stopping the figure grabbing him, he managed to yank a half-filled glass bottle of orange juice up off the table and slung it back, smacking it around at the face with the goggles.

Another set of arms went around him, taking him off the one, and he heard a deeper shatter as the bottle slipped from his hands and hit the floor. 

_I thought I had a better grip on it than that,_ he thought to himself, before realizing that his one hand was in a painfully tight grip, and that might have just interrupted that. What was happening too fast to see was now turning dark for Jeff. He felt his consciousness slipping. Had they stuck him with something? Had they hit his head to knock him out and he hadn't felt it?

The last conscious thought Jeff had was that he hoped somebody outside had heard what had to have been unearthly racket just from everything being slung around and that they'd thought to call for help.

He awoke what felt to be not much long after, and all he was aware of was darkness around him, and the feeling of movement. He was also aware of having enough space to sit up, but not enough to attempt standing in whatever sort of confinement he was in.

_Holy shit, where am I and how do I get out of here?_

Reorienting his thoughts to what he'd last seen, Jeff figured that it had something to do with his attackers at the studio. That still didn't answer where he was, or how to get away. Sitting silent and stiff with fear, huddled in the corner of his confinement, Jeff could hear a lot of shouting outside in the same gruff voices, even more indistinguishable with how they overlapped. There had to be at least twenty people outside based on the noise, and quite likely more.

Folding himself tighter into the corner as some sense of security, Jeff tried to make sense of what was going on.

Through what appeared to be tiny cracks in the dark walls, Jeff could make out bright, orange-yellow flashes of light.

_Really, what is this? Was I slipped some hallucinogen somehow and I'm tripping out?_

The woodsmoke smell was stronger. They were burning something out there. Definitely the same people at the studio. Whoever they are and if they were worthy of being called human beings, since the way they'd acted was more animalistic to Jeff. And he knew that was a strong thought for him to put down without hesitation.

_Alright, first opportunity I have to get out of here, I take it,_ Jeff decided. He waited for the time being, mentally preparing himself. At least it would no longer be catching him by surprise that these maniacs were there. Maybe he'd be ready to fight them off this time.

Though being one against a mass, that was a lot to hope for.

**********

Don was walking back across the parking lot, and had just cleared the driveway and made it onto the sidewalk when George's car came barreling into the lot. Had Don been five feet back, he'd have been bowled down and possibly experiencing a painful, bloody death. Instead, he glared incredulously as George shot into a parking space and traipsed out of the car.

"What the hell was that all about?" he demanded. "You're gonna take something or someone out!"

"Yeah, well I had to get in here fast!" said George breathlessly. "Was having a fast ride and enjoying myself, then all of a sudden cops start chasing me in their cars everywhere -managed to lose them, but it took going around all kinds of side streets, and he was hunting me down for the longest time."

Don snorted, not sure whether it was at George's obliviousness as to why, or that he was amused by the concept.

"Really, George? You didn't think that gunning it over a hundred miles an hour on the city streets might not go over too well? Yeah, it's great to go fast, but that's for the back roads outside of town -you're lucky a chase was all you got."

"Never had a problem before."

"You can't count in being lucky every time."

"Just shut the fuck up, Don," George groaned, walking up the side stairwell to the studio. "I was just now feeling normal again, and you're going to reverse that in less than five minutes! And at this rate, is it worth doing this tonight? Because it's like 11:30. Unless you're up to spending the night, it's not like we're going to get much done."

Don gave a sarcastic smirk. "And I wonder who might have had something to do with that?"

He opened the door, and his smirk vanished with a look of shock.

"Oh my goodness, what's this?" he murmured.

"What now?"

Don took a cautious step inside, walking in awkward steps up on his toes like he was trying to avoid something on the floor. "All this mud tracked through -how did this shit happen? Where is Jeff?"

"Jeff?" called George, internally wondering who on earth in their right mind had tracked so much mud into the hallway, and where in the city they'd managed to get it on themselves without recent rain and the expansive concrete. 

He and Don continued into the lounge before the main recording area, finding a coffee canister on the floor and grounds spilled through the kitchenette. In the main area of the lounge, everything they'd left on the table was scattered everywhere. _Everywhere_. Pedal and amp cords, guitar picks, papers with ideas of what to do with things they'd recorded on the road, a smashed bottle of orange juice that had left a sticky, dried mess on the floor, and random writing utensils. There was also a window broken, a few glass chunks on the floor, albeit most still held in the window, cracked into a spiderweb.

Don gasped.

"Holy... Oh, you gotta be kidding me. George, look at this floor!" He flung his arm down with his hand extended out flat, palm up, gesturing to the disaster area. "This is going to take all night to clean up..."

"Yes, thank you; I can see it!" George hissed back, tone also hushed with shock despite increasing annoyance with Don. "I don't know why you're saying it like that when you know full damn well I wasn't here to make it end up like that either. However it is that someone managed that -and whoever the hell it was."

"Jeff?" called Don again.

No answer.

George took off running through the studio, cautious to make sure he wasn't stepping on or in something that wasn't supposed to be on the floor and was potentially hazardous.

"Jeff?" he called. "Jeff, _where are you?!"_

Still not hearing an answer, Don began getting that familiar bad feeling.

"Is he-"

_"Shhhh!!!"_

George listened for a second, calling Jeff's name again, and not hearing a response began running through the recording area, forcefully pushing the door open so the latch got caught with lounge thumps before the door gave way.

"You don't need to bust the doors down looking for him!" Don scolded.

Ignoring Don, George slammed through the door on the other side of the recording area to the back hallway, checking in the supply closets, offices, and the restroom.

"I can't find him!" George practically wailed as he busted back through the lounge door from the other side where the hallway looped around. "He's not here -we need to go out and look for him."

"Alright then, and we're also going to need to make phone calls about this, starting with the police line," suggested Don, sounding exasperated.

"There's a window smashed out, everything knocked off the table, there are muddy footprints all through the hall and in here. And there's a scuff on the wall here like there was a struggle in this room, Jeff's not here, he didn't leave us any indication of where he's been, and he wouldn't be at home since his car is still down in the lot. Don't you think something seems wrong here that we can't find Jeff?!"

Don sighed, and instead of yelling, dropped down into that sassy, sarcastic tone that could make George's blood boil at times like these.

"Did you think that might just be one of the reasons why I was suggesting to call the police?"

"And why can't we still go out after him to look?!"

"We can," Don corrected, "but it might be a good idea to let them know, not to mention that this place is a mess and needs to be reported too, you know?"

"Call in for Jeff, but we can deal with this fucking mess later!" George howled.

Fed up, Don went to the phone, trying to keep a semblance of calm to make it look like he was going to take his time on the phone regardless. In reality, he only had been going to report for Jeff and hadn't been planning to make a call for the building yet -George had jumped to that conclusion, and if he got himself all worked up into a tizzy thinking Don was going to, Don would have the ability to tell George he'd brought it on himself.

"George, you go out back in your car and start looking for him. I'll call and report Jeff missing, and then I'll go out searching separately."

George looked out the window.

"And if you don't go with me, how are you going to get to him? You rode in without a car today."

Don looked over as he dialed the police number and waited for an answer.

"Alright, I'll have to go out on my bike -and since I might not be able to carry him if he's hurt, which I'm not hoping for, but don't be too wishful with the state of this place, we're going to have to search in circular paths where you will eventually cross paths with me -that way if I find him first, you can pick him up from me. I'll at least be with him if I get to him first. But then we have to leave together so we know where we're searching, so unless you have a better idea or you want to go in one vehicle, you'd better cool it and hang tight a second."

With a low growl, George leaned against the wall impatiently while Don got an answer and informed the police that they were searching for Jeff, and if they didn't call in two hours to say they'd found him, something was wrong.

"Are we going now?" asked George impatiently as Don hung up.

"Yes we are," said Don, grabbing car keys off the counter and tossing them to George, grabbing his jacket, and heading to the stairs with George hot on his heels. He internally groaned with relief that George already seemed to be settling down now that they were on their way to get Jeff.

"Here's the deal -let's check in town in Mick's favorite hangouts first, just to make sure he's not with Mick, because if something was going on and he ran out, he could have run down there. How about you go around the outside roads of town -it'll be easier by the car -and I'll go around the inner streets. We'll meet up by the junction to the highway on the edge and if neither of us found him in town or with Mick, we'll decide where to go looking next," he decided.

"Alright," agreed George. "And if he's with Mick or just walking around town, should we get him, or just-? Because I'm not comfortable with what it looks like up in there."

"If he's with Mick, I'll let him stay with Mick unless he wants to come with me. As long as Mick doesn't get into his occasional trouble, we know Jeff is safe with him, so there's no reason to take him from there if he wants to stay," answered Don as they reached the bottom of the stairs. "If you find him walking around the streets, it's up to you whether you take him with you or not, just make sure you check on him and see that he's not hurt or anything from whatever the hell it is that happened-"

"And you think I wouldn't check in with him?!" George let the building door slam hard behind him as they exited.

Don huffed and pointed forcefully at George's car, walking in the opposite direction.

"Just _go_ and start looking!" _For Christ's sake, he's driving me crazy!_ Don thought to himself.

The sound of George's car door slamming hard as physically possible without doing damage seemed to echo a silent 'right back at you'.

**********

Jeff felt the movement come to a stop after what felt like the better part of an hour of huddling in the corner. However, he'd sensed the movement had been in a lot of circles, and he knew he wasn't as far or long away as it seemed. He had to guess whoever had him wanted to confuse his sense of direction on getting back by making it seem further away and spinning him around enough to lose track of turns.

There was then a loud thump against the side of his confinement. Jeff's heart leapt to his throat, pounding in a hard throb against his trachea and leaving him tight and breathless in his chest.

Then, the side opened, and he was met with bright lights burning his eyes so much he instantly recoiled, snapping back to the other side, shielding his eyes reflexively with his arms. There was yelling. Lots of yelling -indistinguishable, but none of it sounded friendly in any way. Slowly peaking out between them, he saw torches. He also saw sticks and wood figures of the ilk of clubs. There was barking in low, long tones. Hounds.

_No way. I'm dreaming. Gotta be,_ he thought to himself as his breathing quickened to an even faster pace. _This is like something out of the dark ages. Seriously, what the fuck?!_

Then, an arm reached in and yanked him out hard.

The grip on his arm hurt through his jacket. It was really tight, and it hurt. So did Jeff's hands as he felt splinters dig into his hands as he was dragged forward. Even as he squeezed his eyes shut so tightly he saw stars and lost sight of the images in front of him, trying to see if he could snap out of it, he could hear everything. When he opened his eyes back up, it reappeared.

Not a dream after all.

Then, his feet made contact with the ground, and there were several arms grabbing at him. It was hard to see what was really going on between the bright flames and smoke in the air from them, but Jeff saw a clear path away, and he began tugging furiously to break free. One slip forward and a dive between a pair of wide-apart legs, Jeff snatched himself up from the ground and took off.

He could have sworn the four letter acronym on the side of a beat up pickup truck in the ruckus looked familiar. Very familiar from a document they'd looked over earlier that week.

_Figure that one out later, it's time to get out of here!_ He continued charging through the trees, trying to outrun the pounding footsteps and growling hound dogs behind him.

**********

After weaving through town and stopping in all of the places he would expect to find Mick, Don finally caught up to George at the base of the junction for the main highway that looped around town and went through the outskirts, as well as a few more natural areas where a creek ran through. Don doubted Jeff would be there, but it didn't hurt checking around that area. Especially with all the mud left behind. Don couldn't think of another place nearby aside from somebody's yard -which would have been near impossible to seek out on their own -that would have produced so much mud in the studio.

He wasn't looking forward to talking to George though -seeing that George didn't have Jeff with him, and therefore would be in extra rare form with the realization that Don hadn't seen him with Mick.

He hadn't seen Mick either. That was especially concerning. Though it was possible Mick went further today than usual as the result of being frustrated, he was usually easy to find. For all Don knew, he could have returned to the studio beforehand and been missing too.

"So?" asked George.

"I couldn't find him, so we're going to have to keep looking like we mentioned. I couldn't find Mick either, which is unusual-"

"Oh, well that's great -you can tell me that later; let's get on it already and keep looking for Jeff!"

"And then where's Mick?!" Don demanded, trying to not give away how much _that_ had him worried too.

George exhaled so that his nostrils flared.

"Knocking around town. You don't think he still isn't? Probably going in and out of bars further into town than he usually goes on breaks to get away from the insanity, and probably heading in the opposite direction, moving in and out before you saw him -you know how he gets around. Hopefully not getting himself into some other trouble. You know how it is whenever there's a problem, he disappears. If you hadn't pitched a fit earlier, he'd be with us to help look!"

"Oh, and like you didn't pitch a fit yourself too," growled Don. "Get back on the road and go around one way, I'll go around the other, and hopefully we'll find him on the other side. Try not to get a bunch of cops on your tail again this time too. And then as soon as we have Jeff, unless he needs medical attention, we're going straight into town to get Mick before he winds up in some crazy situation and we end up having to hunt him down too!"

"Fine!" George slammed back into his car, internally thankful just that Don had decided to keep searching separately and that he wasn't stuck in the car with Don for however long it would take to get ahold of Jeff.

**********

Stopping when he thought he'd gotten free, Jeff thought to himself, had been a mistake. Planning on not running his energy down in case he couldn't find where he was and get back to town for some time, he'd stopped running as soon as he'd stopped hearing noise and seeing stuff behind him, gotten down on the ground, and stayed quiet. 

That would have worked, if it weren't for the dogs. They'd managed to find him, and it had been a one-howl signal, then others followed, and now he was surrounded again, having to try and get away for the second time.

_Yeah, I could have thought that one over better,_ he thought, flinching as he got prodded with one of those long sticks they had from behind. One grabbed him again, but being ready this time, a strategic reach with extended fingers up to push the goggles up and poke his current attacker in the eyes did the trick. Jeff was off and running again. This time, he didn't run in a straight line, zig-zagging between trees to make himself harder to trace. He paid more attention to his surroundings too as a result. That was when he heard the sound of water running over the sound of the chase behind him. Before he could react, he nearly fell down, putting his foot right down into an intersecting creek.

Rather than getting out of it, Jeff ran through, still holding his arms out to break a potential fall. It was slippery beneath his feet, and the water came up to his knees. More trouble for the dogs at least. It also gave him an idea.

If this was one of the local wooded areas, he wasn't far from town based on that creek being there. It was the local, open access hunting and camping reserve. The branch of woods it was in ran between the two main roads in and out of town. If he could just keep running far enough to get to the road and not keep getting caught, he could easily find his way back. _If_ he was as close to town as he thought he was.

Times like these, he felt especially lucky for his wild energy levels that gave him the ability to sprint for a good, long period. With the hope that he was close enough to get home soon enough, Jeff ran with wild abandonment away from the lights and figures chasing him, tearing through tree limbs that hung lower in his way and ignoring how the ends of low-hanging branches scratched against his face and caught in his hair. He ignored the sloshing of creek water in his shoes and the slippery feeling of mud stuck in the bottoms. All he could do was zig-zag his way through and hope he'd change paths enough to lose his chasers -without losing himself. 

Even as it finally appeared and sounded he'd lost track of them again, this time he continued moving. He wasn't going to make the mistake of losing them, standing still too long, and letting the hounds track him down a second time. Instead, he hoped he was headed in the right direction and wasn't too far from some road or town.

Jeff also wasn't sure if it was a bad thing or a good thing that as he heard the noises behind him get more distant, lights were peaking through the trees. Trying to consider one part of this whole ordeal could possibly be normal, Jeff kept toward it. It was soft light, and it was spaced out in intervals. Street lights, maybe? It was worth hoping so by what else he knew.

**********

Through a maze of traffic cones stretching down the highway from some accident that had taken place and had since been cleared, George made a hair-raising u-turn and sped back down the other side of the highway, back through the tunnel he'd just gotten out of. No way would Jeff be on that side if he were along the road. Somebody would have seen him in that mess and gotten him out.

As he turned around, he groaned internally, catching sight of blue lights flashing in his rear view mirror.

_Oh, not again._ George continued cautiously, hanging back some, in hopes that this cop would be a little more forgiving. After all, he was looking for Jeff, who was potentially in a dangerous situation. Whether a valid excuse or not, it was a damned good one in George's mind.

But the cop swung into the left lane and passed George, racing off with the lights still on. He was going somewhere else, to George's great relief. Explaining to Don how he'd gotten another cop on his tail and been pulled over hadn't been something he was looking forward to. He resettled his train of thought, looking ahead, and began accelerating again.

Now he was heading along the side that Don would have gotten to, later in his circle of the highway. Rather than catching Don when they intersected, he would have to stop at the end of the road and wait for him. Unless he found Jeff before Don did.

_This is getting ridiculous,_ George thought to himself, clearing the tunnel and passing by the side of the road that held a wooded area reserved mainly for recreation, but wasn't in a peak use time for the most common camping and hunting crowd. _Next step is going to be going off the side of the road on foot, and I don't want to know how long that's going to take._

At that moment he'd just gotten back up to speed, George saw a figure whom was a wild Jeff Pilson come shooting out of the bushes. He was nearly unrecognizable aside from his clothes which he'd been wearing earlier, and the coppery flash of his hair, but those were more than enough for George to know by.

He slammed on the brakes and pulled over so fast he was hardly aware of doing it until the car pitched forward as the wheels stopped before the weight of the vehicle, then settled backward, nearly whiplashing him. Apparently, it made some skidding noise too, because Jeff froze in mid-stride, paralyzed and wide-eyed with panic.

His face was smudged with dirt, clothes muddy, pants soaked up to his knees from when he'd run through the creek, and his hair was frizzed into wild tangles. George took in and processed the sight, before cautiously getting out of the car and noticing the leaves and small twigs caught in Jeff's strawberry blond locks, and the tiny superficial scratches on the sides of his cheeks. Then the slightly larger scratches on his upper arms where his jacket had slid off his shoulders, just hanging off his wrists around his back.

_How in the hell-? Well, go figure..._

"Jeff?" called George, starting to walk forward.

Still in some disoriented state, having clearly been through some bizarre encounter, Jeff flinched and took a hasty step back.

"Jeff, no -come here," ordered George, breaking into a light jog forward.

Jeff turned around quickly to run, lost his footing on the slope of the grassy hill coming up to the road, and went down face forward. The sight hurt George's heart, but he took the opportunity to run forward and grab hold of Jeff, then pulled Jeff up to his feet, still keeping a hold around Jeff's middle.

Jeff yelped and tried to run forward out of George's arms in a blind panic.

"You are staying right here with me!" shouted George. "Jeff, it's okay. Calm down. I've got you; right here."

At that moment, some switch it seemed had been flipped inside Jeff, snapping out of whatever state he was in, and realizing he was safe in George's arms. He turned around and grabbed onto George in such a tight embrace, George nearly squeaked.

"Jeff? ...Can't ...breathe!"

"Oh!" Jeff lightened his hold some, settling down, but George was entirely bewildered at what had happened.

_"What happened?"_

"I don't know." Jeff was panting heavily, hitting the low after an extended rush of adrenaline.

"Are you okay?!" George demanded.

Jeff looked up, wincing and disoriented.

George softened his tone, quieting himself.

"You're not hurt or anything, are you?"

Jeff shook his head. "I don't think so."

"Did they do anything to you?" 

"How'd you know they were chasing me?" asked Jeff.

"Well, we wanted to not think that way, but when we couldn't find you or any sign of you, and then saw the state of the studio, we figured something was up. Seriously, did they do anything to hurt you?" George was certain they hadn't done anything serious based in Jeff's appearance and ability to go booking the way he had, but he couldn't be sure enough.

"Other than putting me in some dark container, no. I passed out, though I don't know if they did anything to make that happen or if I just couldn't deal. They didn't do anything that was painful -well, one pulled me out with a tight grip on my arm, but that feels okay now. There were a lot people with hunting dogs and torches. I don't know what they were going to do because I got away, but they just chased me for the longest time when I did."

"Okay," said George, pausing and trying to keep a semblance of calm. "Did you see anything that told you who they were or might have been associated with?"

"Well, they were saying something about rock and metal music being all devil-worshiping, and I noticed one of them had PMRC tags on their truck -before they grabbed me, and I guess if that's referring to the parental advisory hype group, that would be one reason to go after a rock musician." Jeff shook his head, wincing as he became aware of all the stuff caught in it. "Although I'd say that was a pretty unreasonable way of doing it. I think I'd rather deal with the warning label disputes."

"Are you kidding me? Those guys?" George rolled his eyes. "Even weirder they'd do that in the hunting grounds of all places. Who do they even think they are pulling that kind of a cultish stunt? I think they're pretty confused too, going after you of all of us. If any one of us looks the most innocent, and they'd pick you..."

Not even acknowledging George's superlative assignment, Jeff simply leaned in against George and squeezed him tight again. He was physically exhausted. George sat down fast on the ground to keep from getting knocked over.

"Alright, we're going to wait here for Don to come around -and I only say that because he'll have a cow if we don't -and then we're going back to the studio to see if Mick got back, and if not, I guess we have to go get him too." George paused and thought on that. "I think we're going to try and get you cleaned up first though -Mick can hold his own."

At that point, Don was arriving, his speed a lot slower than George would expect for an urgent situation like this. He stopped and looking at George critically, but George let Don have it before he could even start.

"You seem to be pretty relaxed all things considered, riding in so slow when we were actually in a hurry to find somebody?"

"Maybe slowing down to look more carefully is a thought? And George, I thought you were going the other-"

"Shut up!" shouted George. "Just shut up!"

He watched Don start to open his mouth, raising a finger in preparation to unleash some string of argumentative comments before freezing and looking down to take in Jeff and his disheveled state.

"...I don't want to know," he muttered darkly. "Go back to the studio."

Without another word, he took off once more for the night, George following him back.

Half an hour later, George was settling Jeff in on the couch in the studio after helping Jeff clean his scratches. Jeff had changed into one of his fresh sets of clothes he kept in the studio for the occasional unplanned all-nighter. His mud-ridden ones were still on the floor of the studio bathroom where he'd attempted to clean the mud off his body in the sink with paper towels. Neither he, nor George or Don had decided whether it was worth it to attempt cleaning them some in the sink, or to just bag them up and wait until Jeff could get home and do laundry. Instead, having had a police trooper come by to inspect the scene, Don set to work on cleaning up what he was authorized to -which was everything but the walls, the door, and the intact parts of the broken window -and George was in charge of taking care of Jeff.

Moving about the studio was complicated. Jeff didn't have a spare pair of shoes, and was barefoot. George had to carry him everywhere he wasn't sitting, because until they could thoroughly vacuum, there was no telling where glass might have been hiding.

"So do you know how the window got broken?" asked Don.

"They came in the back hallway door," said Jeff meekly as he settled in to lie across George's lap and rested his chin on the arm of the couch. "I'm not sure how the window happened, but with all of them running around and swinging stuff, it wouldn't have taken much hitting that old glass to have it go. The juice was my fault though -I tried to hit back with it."

"Nothing wrong with you fighting them off. They sure did a number on the rest of this," said Don, emptying the wet-dry vacuum into a cardboard box for safety. The glass pieces it had picked up were of tremendous quantity.

"I think that might be an understatement," muttered George. He began attempting to get the debris out of Jeff's hair with the aid of a wide toothed comb.

Jeff flinched hard as the door opened, whimpering as the motion pulled his hair.

"Easy," warned George.

Mick strolled into the studio, balking at the bizarre scene he was met with. The remaining broken window in the frame, smears on the wall, and Don cleaning -now trying to mop up the mess on the floor -were far from typical.

"What happened here?" he asked.

Don looked up.

"Where have you been?"

"Around town, like I said. Bars were a little down, but there was a friendly dog chained up outside of one -that was cool. Now I'm back."

"Awfully long time to be gone while waiting on us, don't you think?" asked Don.

Mick shrugged.

"I dunno, man, I waited a while longer to be safe, and judging by the state of the place and the three of you, I gotta wonder if I should have stayed out longer. You all look like you got into some shit! And Jeff looks like he's been dragged through a bush -man, what in the world happened here?!"

"Trust me, we're still asking ourselves that question," said Don flatly, grinding the mop listlessly into the dried orange juice spill.

"You all don't want to know. I know more than them as to what happened, but I can't even figure it out, really," groaned Jeff tiredly, wincing as George freed his hair from another twig and worked a comb through the snarl left from it.

"Come to think of it, I probably don't!" Mick chortled. "So, are we going to do anything in here tonight, or-?"

"-No!" Don cut off Mick with such great volume that Jeff nearly jumped out of George's arms and Mick flinched.

"No," reiterated George, a lot quieter, but every bit as firm and resolute. "We're done. That's enough for tonight. I'm taking Jeff home from here."

_And after all that, he's staying with me tonight too,_ he added internally.

"We can come back tomorrow, but Jeff and I are going home after we deal with this. You two can stay here or go home -whether you two do anything tonight or not, we're going-"

Don cut George off. "No, I'm done too. If I stay here, I'm not working on it tonight. Way too much has already gone down, it's 1:00 in the morning, and I'm not doing an all nighter after that. Mick, since you're staying because of the car, I'm probably going to stay here unless we call you up a ride home. Honestly, I don't think anyone should be here alone right now."

"Fine by me -it's up to you whether to stay with me or send me home," Mick decided. "It looks like a freak show went down in here!"

"Well, tonight has been one of those," decided Jeff.

"I think it's time to close it off then," said George, finally getting the comb to run smoothly through Jeff's hair. He stood up, pulling Jeff up. "Let's go back to my place and we'll get everything else settled tomorrow."

An hour later, George finally settled into the bed with Jeff, who was extra cuddly following his wild encounter. That was one part he wasn't going to complain of.

"Think we're going to have to deal with them later?" asked Jeff.

"Maybe," said George. "But they'll find out soon enough that if they try to get ahold of you again, not only are they not going to keep you for long, but they're the ones who are gonna be getting hunted down -and I'll be leading the chase on them!"

Jeff snickered lightly. "Oh, stop."

"Go to sleep." George smiled affectionately. "Tomorrow we are going to lay down those tracks we put together as heavy as we can, and there will be no label -just to give a big middle finger salute to them!"

And that was at least one thing he knew they'd all agree on, if nothing else.


End file.
